Cat and Magnus
by K.CWrites
Summary: <html><head></head>A fun catch me if you can type story. Alec Lightwood is the most famous, youngest, and elusive drug dealer in New York. Magnus Bane is a detective for the NYPD with a need for justice and mischief. Both with scars, physically and emotionally, until they find each other one night and begin to heal. Rated M for possible future smut.</html>
1. The Roof

**Only chapter one, I promise! If this gets 10 reviews within 10 days I'll post two more chapters! Review, review, review! :) **

Alec POV

The meeting place is always the same. Deserted alleyway in no-one-gives-a-fuck-ville, with a shitty suitcase. The black leather suitcase thing is a bit of a tip off to anyone who has ever seen any action movie, so it's usually a five dollar one from EBay. The alley thing is a bit cliché too, but this amount is too big to pocket in a club and who the hell brings a suitcase to the park? Just a bit conspicuous. They're clichés for a reason. No cop is randomly shinning his high beams into dark alleyways at 2am. If they are, my fedora hides my face pretty decently. I've always been a hat guy.

I lift my Rolex to check the time, 2:12am. I inwardly growl, I hate it when they're late. The suitcase is feeling increasingly heavier in my hands, and the alleyway smells of garbage. Occupational hazard. The sound of shoes crunching across the pavement alerts me. I glance up slightly so he still can't see my face under the brim of my hat. _Damn. He is gorgeous._ The tall man approaches while my jaw is located somewhere on the ground.

His eyes are of Asian descent, with hazel irises with flecks of golden and brown around the pupils. The orange street lights cast an unusual shadow around him, mysterious, confident and dead sexy. _Christ, one very good looking man and I'm sixteen again. _One wouldn't normally think two years was much time, but it was. Everything about my life is entirely different from the shy junior who watched the boys on the football field instead of the girls in the tight cheerleading outfits.

"Do you have it?" He asks, his voice velvety and smooth. _Oh sweet Jesus, his fucking voice! _I blink, stutter an incoherent version of the word yes, and hold up the suitcase. I'm suddenly grateful for the hat covering half of my red face. When the guy reaches for it, I find my voice. "Uh, uh. Money first. You show me the money, I show you the drugs, and we both go on our merry way." I explain, trying not to sound like a 5th grader. He reaches for what I assume is his phone, but instead he pulls out a black leather wallet.

"You've got to be shitting me." I say, laughing. "Unless you have more than half a mil in there, I'm walking." Had this guy ever bought drugs before? The man smiles. He flips the wallet open; it wasn't a wallet. It's an I.D badge that reads NYPD. "Really?" I ask, dropping the suitcase and putting my hands up. He shrugs, and moves towards me. I turn and run. I used to run track, and I always have an escape plan. Quite useful for times such as this. The alleyway has a dead end, which is probably why he's picked it. However, there are fire escapes. Much like the one attached to the building we're next to.

The black ladder attached to the building is rickety but will hopefully hold my weight. I leap on it, taking two at a time while the guy curses behind me. I glance below me, he's climbing fast. I grip the steel rungs harder and pull myself up to the roof. The door that leads to the stairs is about 15 feet away from me. My feet pound hard against the ground, and I almost reach the door handle when I hear a click.

_He has a gun. Great. _I turn around slowly, putting my hands up. "What's your name?" He asks me. "Believe me. You would know who I am." I say, as I walk a bit closer. _Come on, just let me get a little closer to you. _He still doesn't lower his gun. Just as I am right in front of him, I stop. "What's your name?" I ask, hoping he can't see how red my face is. Running and talking to an absurdly attractive cop has got me all hot and bothered. The guy snorts, "I have a gun to your face, and proof you're a drug dealer. But you want to know my name?"

I shrug, and pull my hat farther down my face self-consciously. "Why not?" I squeak out, my voice ridiculously high. "Magnus Bane. Detective, NYPD." He replies. "So before I get locked up forever, do I get one last phone call? My parents should probably be aware." I say, a bit sarcastically. Magnus's mouth drops, "How old are you?" I smile, "Eighteen." Magnus's golden pupils are the size of saucers. "You must be the youngest, most famous drug dealer in New York." He says in awe, his voice entwined with half admiration and half surprise.

I shrug, and reach down while glancing back at him. He nods giving his permission. Faster than the poor guy can even think, I push his hands upwards and twist the gun out of his hands. I point it back at him. He sure looks pissed now. "You realize you're pointing an armed gun at a police officer, right?" Magnus asks, angrily. "Do you realize there's a reason I'm famous?" I ask him. He throws his hands up in the air dramatically. "Other than you sell the cleanest blow in the city and no one's knows anything about you?" He says, cocking an eyebrow. _Damn, that's sexy. Easy, Alec. Easy. _

"It's because I have never gotten caught. And yes, being invisible does help with that." I deadpan. I click it open, take the bullets and toss it back to him. I walk backwards towards the door, and slam my head into it. _Ouch. Smooth, Alec. Real smooth. _Magnus Bane is smirking at me. "To recover from that," I say with my hand on the door knob. "Would it be cliché to say catch me if you can?" He scoffs, and nods.

I open the door, "The best of luck to you, Magnus Bane." I step into the staircase and lock the door behind me. _He's going to be so pissed. _I descend down the stairs, get to the bottom floor of the apartment, and disappear into the night.


	2. The Meet

**Sorry it's been so long! This took me longer than I thought! But anyways, 10 reviews and I'll post another chapter! And I actually will, because I already wrote it ;) **

**All characters belong to CC **

Magnus POV

_That fucking bastard locked me on the goddamn roof_. I jiggle the handle of the door but to no avail. I glance around at my surroundings, trying to understand how fucked I am. I feel around in my pockets for my flashlight and pull out the small but bright flashlight I always have on me. _Click, _a small burst of light illuminates the roof. I quickly walk over to the fire escape with heavy dread.

I shine my light down on what someone would only call the shittiest ladder of all time. It's a miracle we didn't break the damn thing on the way up. The entire ladder is coated with brown rust, the top that attaches to the building appears to be holding on by the tiniest of hairs. A mouse couldn't make it down this ladder, much less 180 pounds of me.

I growl, cursing the gods the day Mr. Infuriatingly Sexy Voice decided he wanted to become a drug dealer. I spin around looking for other ways off this infernal roof. My phone is getting increasingly heavier in my pocket. After briefly considering jumping, breaking the door down, and taking my chances with the ladder, I pull my phone out and I call Catarina. "Magnus?" She answers bright and cheery as if she already knows that she's saving my balls. I try not to groan with annoyance.

"Cat? Could you do me a small favor…?"

I promise to answer all of Catarina's questions when I haven't been locked on a roof for an hour, and get out of her car. I trudge up the stairs of my apartment, shivering from the cold. The roof was colder than the fucking 9th circle of hell, so as I unlock the door to my apartment I'm in a pretty shitty mood. I flip on the lights, and everything fades away. My day is no longer shitty and I am no longer freezing, because standing in the middle of my apartment is an honest to God _angel. _

Adrian is standing in middle of my apartment, completely naked_. _Every particle, every neuron, every atom of my very being is alive. He smirks at me as he sees my face. "Get over he-" Adrian starts, but I practically leap over to him and cut him off. My clothes, my gun, my badge all hit the floor and I'm just me again. I'm just Magnus. Adrian's hot mouth is against my lips, my neck, my chest. This is my heroin. This is my relief, my addiction, my sanctuary.

Adrian hauls me over his shoulder and carries me to my bedroom.

Being naked in bed, after hot sex is really the best thing on earth. I really don't want to leave but I need some water. Gently moving the comforter, I stand and stretch. Yawning, I make my way to my kitchen. I really love my apartment. It's warm and cozy, all while looking designer chic. Everything is how I left it, which is messy. There are numerous dishes and wine glasses in the sink, jackets are draped from my couch, and a pile of bills are spread out on the table. Something black on the table catches my eye. There's one black envelope on my kitchen table. He was here.

My heart quickens, and before I pick it up I check the front door. _No sign of forced entry and the door was definitely still locked when I entered. _I check all the windows, all still locked. I pick up the black envelope on the table, rip open the seal, and read the card.

Dear Magnus Bane Detective for NYPD,

Nice apartment. I tried to pet your cat and he nearly scratched my eye out.

Sorry I locked you on the roof.

Here's a token of my sincerest apologies.

P.S He seemed cute. I would say have fun, but by the ecstatic moans I hear I think you already are. ;)

I turned the black envelope over, and a blue lollipop drops out. _Oh, it is so on … _

White smoke puffs out of my cigarette, twisting and turning in the air vanquishing into the white dotted blackness of the sky. I'm not a smoker usually; I smoked a bit in high school to seem cool but mostly I'm doing it tonight because of the naked god reading my note and smiling to himself.

He's so fucking beautiful it hurts.

I know I shouldn't be so attracted to the cop who would like nothing more than to put me in jail for the rest of my life but he's different. He's not like the others. He's the cat trying to capture me and swallow me whole leaving nothing but a carcass behind.

It was always a game in the beginning.

The exhilaration. The money. The high! No, I'm not talking about the drugs that I sell. The high of not getting caught. The high of almost, just _almost _getting caught, because I've come close.

But I've gotten smarter_. Shall we play a game, Magnus Bane?_ I think, practically giggling myself off his fire escape. I descend and walk the long way home.

"Roberts wants to see you, Bane." I hear Ragnor's voice say. .

I look up from the enormous amount of paperwork sitting on my desk. Ragnor leans against the door frame, looking bored.

"Did he look like he wanted to rip my balls out?" I ask, as I stand and adjust my jacket.

Ragnor shrugged, "He always looks like that to me." I murmur thanks, as I pass him and head down the hallway to the Chief's office.

I barely get through the doorway before I hear, "What the hell happened last night, Bane?" Dean Roberts is pacing in front of his window. _Shit. My balls will never look the same after this. _

"Sir, the suspect dropped the drugs in the alleyway and ran when he knew it was a set up. I almost caught him, but he, uh, locked me on the roof." I reply, trying not to sound like the bumbling idiot I am.

"What happened to the coke?" He asks, his face still red.

"It's in the evidence locker, sir." I state, hoping that doesn't piss him off as well.

"Well, Bane if it were anyone else you'd be on suspension. But you clear a damn impressive 92% percent rate under cover, so I'm gonna say last night was a discrepancy. You're getting another chance. There's another drug bust that we need you on. Ragnor will fill you in." Roberts grumbles.

"Thank you, sir." I respond, as I get up and head towards the door.

"Bane?" I hear, and I turn. "You're gonna catch this son of a bitch, you hear?" It's not an encouragement, it's a threat. I nod, as I head out the door.

Smoke twists and curls around him like sliver snakes around his dancing body. He grinds to the loud thumping that seems to be passing for music. Red and green lights flicker across his lean torso. With tight leather pants, a see-through mesh shirt, and thick lines of coal rimmed around his golden eyes, you'd never have guessed this guy is the lead detective for the NYPD.

He's smart, closing an impressive 92% rate. Had a 3.9 GPA in high school, probably could've gone to an Ivy, but parents had no money. Instead, he studied at a local police academy, working his way up through the ranks. Noble, which would account for more, but he was rumored to have a bit of a wild side. It was well known rule that it was hard to be anything less than an honorable citizen when you're a policeman, but that didn't apply to Magnus.

He can talk his way out of anything. He's simultaneously envied, adored, admired, and despised. I glance down at the file in my hands; my guy had done well. I've had about 6 different detectives look into me over the past year and a half. All of them had given up after 2 or 3 months. After all, I'm a ghost. I'd made damn sure of it. But this guy; he's different. The others all had impressive careers but by the time they were after me, their careers were coming to an end and didn't really have the time or patience for me. Magnus closed nearly every case he got, and is only 23. I made him look like an ass the other night and he definitely wasn't going to let that go. He's the determined sort of type. Finally a worthy challenge.

He's different looking as well. All mysterious, confident, sexiness while the other guys were middle aged, potbellied sagginess. Not exactly eye candies. Magnus Bane, though is at his prime in every single way. I feel sixteen again, dreaming about Matt Rogers the football captain and the sexiest guy in my high school. We want what we can't have. I slip the file back into my bag, take my second glass of scotch, and tip half of it into my mouth. I try not to grimace as the liquid fire runs down my throat, burning my insides. I never was overly fond of alcohol, but I need it tonight.

"Tastes like Satan's cock, right?" A silky smooth voice says. I look over. Standing at the bar next to me is Magnus Bane.


	3. The Hook Up

**Here you go, lovelies! Thank you so much for all the positive feedback, it keeps me writing :) 10 reviews and I'll tell you what happens next.**

Alec POV

Things that went through my mind as Magnus's unwavering cat eyes stare straight at me:

Huh?

Me?

Oh hell, he means me.

Okay, okay...NO NOT OKAY

STAY CALM ALEC

I look like an idiot.

Just look away.

And instead of doing any of those things the best I can managed is a, "Hmsghf?"

Holy fuck Alec, that wasn't even English. Shit, shit, shit. He doesn't even know who you are. He thinks he's just hitting on someone at a bar. Okay. I hope my face is disguised by the darkness of the club. The corners of Magnus's mouth twist upwards into a fucking heart stopping smirk. That smirk will be enough to get me off for the rest of my life.

"I'm guessing that's a yes." He leans in closer to me. My heart is trying to pound its way out of my chest. I take a deep breath. Holy shit, he's lips are less than a foot away from mine. If I leaned forward we would be kissing. Okay, focus Alec. This guy wants your balls on a platter.

"You know, you could try being a little more discrete." His voice is caramel and gravel right in my ear. I try to focus on what he's saying.

"Wha-?" I ask. I grimace, I can't even form a complete sentence.

"Oh, please. I know your game. I've seen, dated, fucked your game." His words are water, all slick and smooth, sending shivers through my entire body. Just the way he says fuck makes me want him. "It's all innocent, naïve, pretty boy. It's cute." He drops a glittery, charcoaled wink at me. Finally, I find my voice.

"You don't think I know your game?" I ask him, tilting my head slightly. I think the scotch is putting some liquid courage in my veins and it's coursing through like a wildfire. My body feels like its radiating confidence. I'm the fucking sun of confidence! A familiar nagging voice says you're drunk, Alec. Every single word drips with disappointment. It seeps into my body into I can feel it eclipsing my sureness.

I finish off my drink, tell my voice to piss off, and let the words flow. They're coming so fast Ican'tstopthemIdon'twanttostopthem until I hear my voice say, "You think I'm some innocent twink and you're some bad boy who's going to teach me your rotten ways?" I half slur. The words are tumbling out of my mouth with absolutely no permission from my brain. But I smile like a drunk idiot, because well hey, that's what I am right now. Was that voice even me? It sounded like a huskier, sexier Alec than the one than I'm acquainted with. It sounded sort of suave so I plow on. "I know all your ways. I've seen, dated, fucked your ways. There's nothing you can teach me. Besides, it's Tuesday night. Shouldn't you have something or one to do?" I try to copy his wink but I think it just looks like I'm having a face spasm. Magnus chuckles at me and grins, and puts his hand on my thigh. I put my hand on his back, pulling him closer to my body.

I'm going to combust if he keeps grinning at me like that.

He brings his hand up and tilts my head up towards his face. "I do what I want. Or who." His lips whisper hotly. His lips look incredibly soft and inviting with just a hint of gloss. He's gorgeous and sexy and charming and I want him so badly…

I pull away. I want him to say that he wants me. I want to hear the words come from that perfect mouth. I want Magnus Bane to say that he wants me. Because I'm trivial. I've become trivial. To my father, to myself, to the world. I'm broken, shattered, incomplete. So I want him to say he wants me, before he realizes he picked the damaged vase on the shelf.

"Uh-uh." I shake my head. He tilts his own in question. I reach my hand around his neck and pull him closer to my mouth. I kiss his neck, gently sucking, leading up to his ear. He moans quietly.

"If you want me…" I whisper in his ear, gently sucking on his earlobe. "Tell me. Now."

Magnus groans, a deep primal sound, and I nearly convulse off the fucking bar chair. Suddenly, he puts his hands on my back and pulls me up. Not sure about being jerked to a standing position, my legs sway in disagreement. He leans my body against his so that every part that can be touching are. It's hot skin and flesh against each other, and I melt into him until we're a mess of body parts, connected with one heart beating one rhythm.

He grabs and squeezes my ass, and grinds against my groin. The space in my pants has become decreasingly less roomy since he started talking, but now it's gone from snug to so tight it hurts.

"Believe me. I want you." Magnus says, as he takes my hand and pulls me towards the bathroom.

Magnus shoves me hard against the stone bathroom wall, making my head vibrate. It hurts and I wince, but all the pain melts away as soon as Magnus takes my hands, pins them above my head and starts kissing my neck. Groaning and breaking free of his hold at once, I spin us so I'm pinning him against the wall. I attack his neck with a flurry of kissing, sucking, biting, moaning, groaning, until he's practically begging to be free of the confines of his jeans. "Please." He begs/whimpers. I make a tsk tsk sound and he grinds against me impatiently. My God. He's looking at me like I'm the last piece of chocolate cake at the bake sale. I stop and pull back. He looks confused, but slows down with me and breathes. I can practically hear our hearts pounding together. We're so close to each other our heavy breathes mix intertwine, and all I want to do is not stop, never stop, always be this.

"You." He breathes, trying to get the words out in between his breathes. "Are such a tease." I smile my best Cheshire cat grin, which probably means I'm smiling like I kill people in my basement. He's waiting for The Moment, when our lips finally touch, when the moon will fall out of the sky, when buildings will collapse, when the earth will collapse, because I know we'll unmake the fucking universe with this kiss.

" I forgot something." I say, giggling manically, exaggeratedly slurring my speech to blackout-won't-remember-a-damn-thing-in-the-morning drunk. Magnus pouts, sticking out his bottom lip. I want that lip on my mouth. Alright Alec. Calm down. "Hurry back." He half whines, and I wonder if he has some liquid courage in him as well. "Or I might start without you." Even (possibly) drunk, his every word is flirty-sexy-confident. Un-fucking-believable.

I stumble out the door keeping up the overly drunk facade. I dance-walk through the throng of people grinding on the dance floor, grab my bag on the bar stool and walk out the door.

Magnus POV

I know the grin on my face is ridiculously big and if any person walked into the bathroom and took in my serial killer smile, crazy eyes, tousled hair, they might be inclined to call the police. I pause, I don't even know his name and he's already everything. The way he smiles, the way he's shy but strong, the way his eyes are holding so many secrets, secrets I want to crack open and discover. Just…everything. I can't stop replaying that moment.

He had looked so lost drinking his scotch alone at the bar, I simply had to talk to him. He's a magnet, pulling me in. Why isn't he here right now, kissing me, touching me, melting me? I try to remember his words but my half intoxicated brain won't remember.

Ah, fuck it. I walk out of the bathroom, scanning the dark crowd for those eyes. I can't even describe the color of his eyes. They're bluer than the sun lit sky after a storm, than the oceans in Hawaii, than anything else in the world. They're better. They're iridescent blue with flecks of gold, brown, hazel, white. Losing myself in his eyes will never be enough for me.

Then I see him walk out the door.

My heart is

dropping…

dropping…

dropping…

shattered.

He's everything but I'm already nothing.

I shouldn't care. He should just be another guy, another guy in the crowd of hundreds.

But I do, and I feel my feet walking towards the door, slapping the pavement, calling "Hey!" to his back.

His dark figure stops walking. He has a black leather satchel with him that I didn't notice before. How could I have missed that? It must have been hanging on his bar chair and I was too absorbed with him to see it… He looks back at me finally. Our eyes lock, and while those eyes were misty waters, bright oceans, and summer skies before, they're icy glaciers now, frozen and absolutely impenetrable. He smirks at me in a sneaky gotcha way, and he takes off into the night so fast it's like he was never there in the first place.

A white piece of paper escapes his bag, and lands on the black concrete a few feet in front of me. The dim orange street light reveals it's a profile on somebody. I jog towards it, picking it up. It's about me.

He has a profile on me.

He's not my everything.

He's the youngest, most famous drug dealer in New York.


	4. The Bosses

**Hello again... I know I didn't wait until 10 reviews which is weak and pathetic but... screw it. Here ya go! **

I need God, or Zeus, or Buddha, or whoever's running the show up there to get their holy asses down to Earth now, because we need to have a conversation. Not so much of a conversation perhaps, maybe just me yelling, "WHY THE FUCK?" Because why the fuck did they have to make Mr. McSteamy? God/Zeus/Buddha/Whoever must have been like "You know, I'm in the mood to really fuck with Magnus's life, so let's make a guy he really likes into a drug dealer! Won't that be great fun?"

I moan and bang my head on my desk… way too hard. A resonating thump occurs, making my hung over head hurt even more. I hear a chuckle. I look up, Ragnor is leaning against the door frame watching me.

"Hard night there, Bane?" He shakes his head. "Are you going to tell him what happened last night?" He gives me one of his eyebrow raising stares. Ragnor is my best friend, my mom, my dad, my brother, my grandmother, every relative possible, all rolled into one annoying pain in the ass. Lovable pain in the ass, but pain in the ass none the less. He and the captain both know of my out of work activities but the Captain makes it sound like we're talking about prostate examinations.

Sure, it's the 21st century and nobody should give a shit if you like penises or vaginas or both, but in the cop community it does. Not in a homophobic way, it's more listed under the Things We Don't Talked About list. But I know I have to and so does Ragnor. Hence the eyebrow raise.

"I'm so hung over right now…" I try to complain but Ragnor's eyebrow shoots up so far it's almost getting tangled in his blond white hair. I groan, stand up slowly, and walk through the door while grumbling about how big an asshat Ragnor is while he just chuckles.

I knock on the chief's door, and hear the Wizard-of-Oz-like-boom, "Enter!" I'm telling you, the chief would make a kickass Wizard of Oz. I walk in to see that the Chief's giving me an eyebrow raise. There must be a special night class I'm missing out on about this eyebrow raise.

"Bane. What is it?" He booms, already as if I'm guilty of something. So I tell him details of last night, except for well, all the details about me and mystery man making out, humping, and almost getting naked. Basically, just that he came onto me and I found out that he's the drug dealer.

"So…Umh." He cleared his throat. I bite back a laugh. He's so uncomfortable, I almost feel sorry for him. "What's your plan of action?"

I blank, I didn't really have a plan.

"Errrm, I thought maybe we could use me to get to him? I mean if he likes me and thinks I'm double crossing the police, I'll earn his trust. And I can tell you who his contact is and when his next deal is, so you can bust him?" I have no idea where the hell these words are coming from, but there coming and I can't seem to stop. This doesn't feel right. I shouldn't care. I _don't _care. I shake the feeling off.

He pauses, stroking his chin for a few moments. It's honestly like he wants me to burst out laughing.

"Okay." I hear him boom… I think. Wait, did he just say okay? My befuddled expression must have clued him in, because next he says, "Yes, Bane. I said yes. I do that on occasion" completed with a pretty spectacular eye roll. He's a World Class eyebrow raiser and eye roller. Now, that's just unfair.

I nod, and begin to leave his office before I double back.

"How exactly am I going to do this, Chief?" I asked.

"FIGURE IT OUT, BANE! LEAVE!" He booms at me so loud the force from it practically propels me out of his office. That and fear of getting my balls ripped off.

When you get summoned to meet Camile anywhere, you're either screwed or about to become very wealthy. Camile is The Boss of All Bosses. She can buy anything, do anything; the woman is practically Superwoman. Which is probably due to her cut throat mentality, as in keep making money or we'll dispose of you. Camile and I have had a long standing relationship and to be honest, I think I'm her favorite. Especially with the men. I'm young, handsome, and supplying drugs. For me, it's a love-hate relationship. It differs day to day.

We both seem to understand the deal. We are not in the business of making friends, we're in the business of making millions of dollars in cash in exchange for drugs. We sell our product however we can, because at the end of the day it's not about the person who's buying or the person who's selling; it's all about the money. When I was first breaking in, this was a difficult lesson to learn. A lesson that has since kept me from being drinking buddies with Camile. As for the risks it brings, Camile was a very good persuader.

Today, I got a message to meet her at The Masa. As well as being the wealthiest women in New York, she might also be the most pretentious. Only she would pick a restaurant where a single meal is five hundred per person for a plate of fish wrapped in seaweed. The restaurant is a low light affair, with fancy table cloths and Camile sitting dead center in the room. She smiles, waving me over with a jingle of her gold bracelets.

"Alec, darling. Sit." Camile has this strange way of talking where everything she says instantly compels you to do whatever she says. She's a snake charmer of humans, which is why she has a list of lovers so extensive it goes from New York to Florida.

"Alright, I'm here. Should I start to learn how to breathe underwater or should I make room in my bank account?" I ask her calmly. Camile has always liked my straight to the point quality. She smiles knowingly, pouts her blood red lips.

"Why Alec, I am insulted. I would never do that to my favorite seller, would I?" She says, with her hand over her heart. I raise my eyebrows, and waving her hand at me she mumbles, "No fun." She takes out her phone, and slides it across the table to me. There's a picture of a Hispanic man with a cell phone on it. He looks pissed. I look closer at the photo and gasp.

"That's Guillermo Alvarado." I state, trying to keep all emotion out of my voice. Alvarado just happens to be one of Mexico's top crime bosses. If he wants some of ours and our shit is good enough that if he likes it, we become his suppliers. It also means that if anything goes wrong, I am going to be shot in the head. Camile smiles her sweet as pie smile and I want to punch her.

"A challenge. I know you're up to it. It's happening tonight. Bring me the money and I'll cut you in 30 percent." Big chance, big money. Camile has never offered 30 before. That's going to be 1.5 million dollars. The money is never what entices me, although it helps. It's the rush, it's the risk, the high. This one could mean death.

"I'll be there." I smirk, like the addict I am.

"Alec?" Camile says, her words laced with poison with frosting on top. "Do not disappoint me. Especially, with what happened the other night." Glancing at her phone again, she sighs, stands, air kisses me and glides away, leaving me alone.


End file.
